


Tell Me What You're Here For

by delibelly



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Slight Smut, butchershop au, roommate au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2105148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delibelly/pseuds/delibelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Jeager goes looking for some meat for a party hosted by his unreasonably hungry roommate, and finds a ridiculously cute butcher in the process.<br/>[ eren's perspective ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me What You're Here For

                                         The first day I moved into my new apartment with my new roommate, Sasha Braus, I asked her for one thing and one thing alone: complete privacy. I'd stay the hell out of her life, as long as she stayed the hell out of mine. As it went, it was a pretty good agreement; we kept to ourselves for a while, only really exchanging pleasantries and every so often a 'can you pick up milk from the store' and such as that, until Sasha got a boyfriend.

                                       Connie, said boyfriend, would come over day after day after day, eating our food and sleeping with Sasha and really making a lot of noise in the process of both. I liked him fine, he seemed to be a pretty nice and funny guy, but that just meant it became harder and harder for us roommates to keep to ourselves. It started out simply with me asking my roommate what the deal with Connie was, her explaining, then asking me who this 'Mikasa Ackerman' was and why they wrote me everyday. After that, Sasha and I had the longest conversation we'd ever had, which ruined our entire agreement completely, due to the fact that it had lead to us digging into each other's pasts like nobody's business.

                                         Turns out, we had a lot in common, and were actually meant to be pretty amazing friends. We had both gone to medical school after college, and we had both gotten jobs that actually had nothing to do with being doctors in the downtown area. Except, Sasha was a chef, and I was just a lowly bartender. We'd even lived in the same dorm  in the same medical school, which I decided was a little too coincidental. 

                                          With the exception of a few disagreements since, really, who doesn't disagree with their friends sometimes,  Sasha and I had similar opinions about almost everything, and officially discovered each other that evening.

 

                                            A year later, Connie Springer finally asked Sasha to move in with him. I, personally, though that two years of listening to their 'nightly activities' and crappy lovey-dovey bullshit was really way too long, and that the baldie should've asked her that sooner.

                                                  Connie was so excited that he was going to be living with his long term girlfriend, in fact, that he declared the occasion as a cause for celebration. This meant that I was stuck doing all the hard work, while Connie and Sasha got stuck with streamers and picking out paper plates. I supposed I should've been used to it by now, what with having dealing with those two for two years now, but I couldn't help but label it as an annoyance. 

 

                                                                                         -                                                                                -

 

                                     "Believe it or not, 'the good meat' is not actually an animal I can buy. I don't think I can go to this place and just ask the person for 'the good meat,' and they'll just hand over whatever seems appropriate. -- yeah, well,--- No, I'm not -- that's super dumb --- Why are you yelling at me over meat-? --- SASHA I AM TRYING TO -- I swear to god -- Okay, fine, whatever. If you're gonna be so pissy about your fucking meats, I'll just buy whatever looks good to me. -- It's your fault -- GOOD BYE SASHA -- Jesus-- bye..! I'm gonna--" Letting out a frustrated huff, I stared down at my phone and glared at the words 'call ended' blinking across my screen. She could be so much sometimes, it surprised me that I'd put up with her for this long at all.

 

                                                          I still couldn't understand why I was the one put in charge of all the food. I didn't know how to cook anything besides toast, and maybe boxed macaroni and cheese on a good day; Sasha and Connie were the ones who were culinary geniuses. Yet, they still put the one guy in the world who didn't know how to boil water until last year in charge of finding the best meats in town. It pissed me off, but most things did anyways, so I tried to ignore it as best I could.

 

                                                           Me being me, I had to ask a co-worker for advice on where to find such things, and was instantly recommended some butcher shop with the dumbest name I'd ever heard. So dumb, that I 'd completely forgotten it, and had to resort back to looking at signs in order to be able to find it. I knew I'd be able to recognize the idiocy when I saw it.

                                                            After just about half an hour of looking, there it was. A teeny tiny little hole-in-the-wall butcher shop, with a hand painted wooden sign over its door that read No Misteaks in big, red letters. Even with a dumb name, I liked the look of it. It was quaint, like you'd walk in and your favorite person would be standing behind the counter with a plate of cookies, just for you.

                                                              Except, no, that's not what happened.

                                                              I walked in, and there didn't even seem to be anyone in sight. There was only a pretty small room that managed to squish the deli box, a counter, a table, and a few chairs and still have enough room in the back for the actual butcher-ing stuff to happen. I wasn't that impressed with it, considering who ever owned this place pushed the table and chairs so far in the corner, that if anyone actually sat there, Patrick Swayze would rise from his grave in the blink of an eye, just to speak his piece. 

                                  I was just about to turn and leave when I heard a slight rustling coming from the back. I'll never admit it again, but I did get a little spooked by it.

                                        "Uh... Hello?" I called, leaning a bit too far over the glass case just so I could glance in the back. 

                                      It stayed silent for a moment or two, at least, long enough for me to think I was just going crazy and that there hadn't been any sounds, until a startling clang emitted from the same spot that the rustling had come from. To me, it sounded like metal crashing against the tile floor. 

                                      _'_ _This is too fucking weird....'_ I thought, backing away from the glass case entirely so I could approach the door once again. 

                                        "Ah! No, I'm sorry! I didn't realize I had a customer, I'll be out in just a moment!" A voice rang out, captivating me long enough to get me standing by the counter once again.

                                  In the moment or two before the owner actually appeared, I heard some more rustling, a few more clangs, and even some rather loud chopping noises followed by a slight hissing sound - the kind you make when you hurt yourself, but haven't yet registered how bad the injury actually is. 

                                  Still hissing and breathing deeply to initiate the illusion of mending the pain, the owner finally emerged from the mysterious back of the shop. He had chin length blond hair, and bright, vibrant blue eyes that were huge with - what my more poetic side thought was - wonder. I didn't really care how wrong I was about that, because really, nowadays nobody's eyes are full of wonder, but sometimes it's nice to think that there are some wonder-filled things in this hell hole of a place.

                                  Though, in the haze of noticing his facial features, I spaced out, and only just barely heard the butcher speak. 

                                      "Sir....? Are you alright? Can I help you?" The blonde waved one of his hands around while the other stayed near his chest, a white rag wrapped around it.

                                    "Ah, yeah, sorry. I'm fine." I mumbled, glancing down at the hand near his chest. It was mostly white, but.. what was that off in the corner? A hint of red? "Are _you_ okay?"

                                     "What? Oh, yeah! This is nothing, just a slight cut. I'll heal eventually; it's fine." He smiled at me, as if trying to assure my worry with that one gesture. If that wasn't the most useless thing I'd ever seen, then I didn't know what was.

                                     Leaning over the counter a bit more again, though, not as much as I did the first time considering I wasn't trying to peer into the back to see what the fuck he was doing, I tried to get a better look at it, "I can help, y'know." I offered. He didn't seem that ecstatic about it.

                                      "Er... What? Excuse me?" He asked, leaning away from me, "Sir, I'm sorry, what are you doing?" I could sort of see his eyes widening from the top of my vision, obviously weirded out, so I backed off a little.

                                      "I went to medical school, is all. I could stitch you up. That does look like one hell of a gruesome cut, I don't think you'll be able to heal as quickly as you want to." 

                                       He stayed quiet, seeming to mull over my offer in his mind. Until, that is, he glanced over at me with cold and serious eyes, "As long as you're not screwing with me," He began again, "I'll let you fix it. Just, No funny business, alright, mister...?" 

                                      "Jeager. Eren Jeager... and you?"

                                      "...Armin. You can just call me Armin."

 

                                    ' _Armin, huh?'_   I thought, gave him my cockiest grin, and so it began.

                               

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Hi! so, if you couldn't already tell, I barely have any idea where I'm going with this. this fic is basically 100% improvisation but I really hope you like it and such. I still don't know how many chapters i'm going to write but, uh, here's this one! I'd love some constructive criticism on this, considering it's the first fic i've actually uploaded online. So, be honest! I really wanna improve upon myself as much as I can. Shoot me a comment here, or an ask on my tumblr which I'll see if I can post a link somewhere. If not, it's just kyojinthug so go ahead on there if ya want.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO! I've run out of meat puns. I need assistance. Send me some bomb.com meat puns if you're feeling it and I'll be the happiest camper.
> 
> sorry for the shitty ending and the stupid pointless conversation -- this is only the beginning, after all.
> 
> Edit add in : I will not be continuing this fic, regretfully. I don't really ship this anymore, and this was just a shitty plot all in all but. i'm gonna keep it up so i can bask at the fact that people actually read something i wrote. I'm very sorry. though, I am in the process of writing a JeanMarco fic that i am very proud of, so i'll tell y'all when that's published and i'd be so happy if you'd read that too. thanks for reading this, guys.


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